Chapter 4 - The first working day
So, Harry went into his new life, making a note to himself that he would never again get involved in anything heroic with saving the world from a terrible danger, that he would never again allow himself to be persecuted in order to stop a new maniac who fancied himself the Arbiter of Fate — that was enough, because it's possible for Heroes in retire and live in peace. He even, while riding on a fast train with a backpack full of jewelry, was thinking about what kind of unproblematic and not at all nervous job he should get. And only after the arrival of the train in New York, a brilliant idea hit my head - the library.
Firstly, it's not crowded there. Secondly, well, tell me for mercy's sake, what can happen in a quiet, quiet library, where only conceits and book lovers go, who clearly do not know where it is more correct to beat and do not participate in fights? And no one in their right mind, choosing between an attack on the library and an attack on the bank, who will choose the kingdom of dust and books. Thirdly, Harry realized for himself that it was time for him to start learning at least something.
However, he didn't quite keep his word. Landing in the evening in the suburbs of New York, in Queens, Harry inadvertently stumbled upon the robbery of an elderly man and simply could not pass by. Feeling grim satisfaction because of the fleeing robber, holding on to the twisted arm with which he was pointing a pistol at the defenseless old man.
"Are you all right, sir?" — examining the elderly man, the magician asked. — I do not advise you to walk through the streets of this city at such a time anymore, since this is happening, because random friendly neighbors in the city may not be nearby - shooting disapprovingly in the direction where the robber ran away, with a glance, Harry translated again focused on the clearly in shock and in order to somehow bring him to his senses, he tried to translate everything into a joke. — Isn't it better to sit at home with a cup of tea and watch TV?
The pupils of the person slowly began to return to their normal state, and breathing became a little faster and more noticeable. All this indicated that the condition of the elderly man was getting better. This made Jasper smile, noticing out of the corner of his eye that some guy was hurrying towards them. "So, Potter, you've already saved this man. Just try to offer him to walk him home! You are not Mordred's hero, you are now an ordinary person who lives an ordinary life. That's enough for you," Harry thought, but he himself had not moved away from the man during all this time.
— All right. Harry never knew how to say goodbye, and therefore it came out crumpled, but another joke may well straighten things out. — And it would be better for you not to run around the streets at night anymore and not find adventures for yourself in one place.
The smiling magician turned in the direction of the bus stop and walked towards her. Judging by the sounds, a guy finally flew up to that man and fearfully chirped apologies in the direction of "uncle" and assurances that "this will never, never happen again."
— What's your name, young man? The rescued man suddenly spoke, clearly addressing the wizard.
Harry stopped and, smiling sadly, turned to the miracle family.
"Oh, I assure you. You don't have to know my name. It wasn't for the sake of praise that I got involved in this story. I was able to intervene, and I helped," the guy looked at his uncle and nephew forlornly, feeling longing and even a little envy. Shaking his head briefly, Harry deliberately raised his hand and spoke hurriedly. — Oh, what a long time! I'm late. Have a nice day!
It's a good thing then that the nephew and uncle were a little slow, otherwise Harry didn't get rid of them so easily. After that, already thinking about everything that had happened, Harry cursed himself for having succumbed to the reflexes hammered into the subcortex of consciousness again, but it was still good in his soul. "OK, okay. But that was the last time I was a hero. That's it!" — tired of himself and this topic, he fell asleep safely on the bus on the way to his new home.
That's why he's sitting here right now, working out his first day at the New York City Library. All the documents, including their copies, printouts of old newspapers from his "hometown", old stamps and everything else that was requested from the newcomer, were now lying quietly and waiting for their turn to be bulkhead by an elderly lady. Jasper carefully squinted at his boss. She, having put on her glasses, clung to some newspaper with a bold headline: "Spider-Man: A hero or another survivor?!" The magician, as it turned out, snorted loudly at this, so he urgently had to immediately pretend that he was very interested in something in the volume, since the librarian's gray piggy eyes looked like a harpoon pierced his back. "But she is far from Madame Pins, not like McGonagall..." — Harry-Jasper thought, and if recently such a thought could cause a haggard smile, now only kind condemnation and hidden aloofness.
At the end of the day, the wizard managed to learn how to maneuver tolerably well in the maze of books, fasten all the newspapers for the past week and the month before last, and even distribute the books handed over for today to the departments. And, if even in the morning the boss's gaze seemed tenacious to him, now, by nightfall, she seemed to have softened. And so, the wall clock with chimes in the main reading room struck eleven. The library is closed.
Jasper nervously adjusted his glasses and took a deep breath. After all, the months of seclusion had a strong effect on the sociopathy already developed by the efforts of the director and the Dursleys beyond measure. Jasper shrugged his shoulders quite childishly, driving away unsolicited memories from himself, which greatly touched the boss who came up from behind. Once she also had a grandson, he was born a little earlier than this new employee, but no matter how much the old lady looked at the young man all day, she kept seeing her twenty-year-old grandson, who died so stupidly in another Vulture attack, and he could have turned twenty-six this year… However, the woman quickly took her emotions under control, after all, she has not been living for the first year. Clearing her throat with a cough, the old woman folded her arms on her chest. Her voice, squeaky as an old door that was not greased, caught up with Jasper, who was thinking at the very exit:
— I remind you that the working day begins at nine in the morning — this is for "morning", first—shift workers, and for "evening", second-shift workers - from three o'clock in the afternoon. Work schedule three by two… You work for three days, you rest for two, if you don't understand. Now get out of here, or it's already too dark outside.
After blinking uncomprehendingly a couple of times, Jasper stopped near the half-open door. Lips parted by themselves into a warm smile, and consciousness threw up the image of one sarcastic-bilious potioneer, each time pulling a negligent student out of another story that he got into, while pouring everything that had accumulated, but these are trifles. Everyone cares as much as they can... care.
"Thank you for your concern, ma'am. See you tomorrow! Swallowing a lump in his throat, Harry—Jasper pulled the hood over his head.
Who knew that living among people again would be so tedious, but at the same time interesting…
Potter suddenly stopped. "Nonsense… I'm a human being too. Aw, Harry, you've been in the mountains too long. And it's time to get used to the fact that you stand out from the crowd by your appearance alone, " — unconsciously rubbing the scar in the form of an unchanging and so fed up lightning, Jasper continued on his way, shaking his head. That's how it turns out to happen in life.
It was a starry night. The moon was shining high, high. A walk to the guest house would not have taken much time if Harry had not turned into a doorway and climbed onto the roof of the house and, sitting comfortably there, did not begin to stare at the treacherous night sky, inexorably captivating the young wizard.
—How beautiful," Harry said, exhaling a barely noticeable cloud of steam. — And you can see all this all night long, but you have to sleep. That's unfair! I'm even a little sorry that I can't stay awake, without any special consequences, of course. I wonder ... and where among all this light wealth Andromeda ... Draconis… Orion? — the wizard himself did not notice how the elder wand, forgotten in the backpack left in the room, turned out to be in his hand.
Harry thoughtlessly guided the artifact's tip from one star to another. A ring of Mraxes with a Resurrecting Stone shone mysteriously on his finger, and an invisibility cloak fell weightlessly on his shoulders, hiding his master from the unkindly tenacious eyes of cameras watching everyone, piercing cold wind and curious unintentional eyes. Especially from the all-seeing.